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Wednesday, December 7, 2011

I always shared my birthday with my grandfather. I am the fourth and he was the seventh. We always had a cake (cannoli) together, both our names written in script between the flowers, and we blew out the candles in a team effort. It's been three years now that he wasn't there to blow out the candles with me, though, I like to believe he was there in spirit. They say it gets easier and in a way it does because the pain I felt when he was gone has lessened. It has become a distant memory. But when I take a moment to think about him and about all the times we shared that pain returns front and center. So I guess it doesn't actually get easier it just gets pushed to the back of your mind, your bodies way of protecting you from the hurt.

I just wanted to take today and say Happy Birthday Grandpa. I hope you are having a glass of Chianti, a cigar smoking in your hand while you listen to Frank Sinatra.

I wrote a poem the first December he was gone. I wasn't going to post it. I am terrible when it comes to writing poetry. But what the hey. It's for him after all.

I decorated my tree today

And I thought of you underneath the ground where you lay

The heartache started as the tears began to brew

Then I turned and was greeted by your smile as if on cue

Your picture sitting on top of my wine rack

Facing my tree, facing me, bringing me back

Back to a time when you were here

The burn in my eyes grew and I dropped a single tear

I wiped it from my cheek with my finger tip

Walked to my glass and took a sip

I hoped it would make the pain go away

Or at least numb the pain that was caused by that day

It made it worse causing tears to spill down my cheek

I wanted to look at you again even if it was just a peek

I mustered the courage since for you I could never deny

And there you were staring at me with your baby blue eyes

I took a deep breathe and this is what I had to say

I miss you on this day and I hope you are in heaven enjoying your birthday